Too Old to be a Playa
CeeElCee and Sista Smiff are having a little snark-fest in the comments about the fact that I have more experience in being on earth than them. While it is obvious to anyone who comes here to read my crap that I am not fresh out of college, I was trying to keep my age a bit of a mystery in case a hot little 25-year-old becomes enamoured with my rapier wit and handsome Fat Elvis picture and emails me saying she can't stand it and has to have me.But that isn't going to happen. And I was reminded of that yesterday. By a girl named Anne.
When I got back to Nashville, and found myself suddenly single and possession-less, I found a furnished apartment for rent over in Hillsboro Village. The lady on the phone told me that Steve would meet me over there to show me around. Imagine my dumbfounded surprise, when I got there and instead of a Steve, I saw one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life. I'm not kidding. When I discuss her with friends who know her, they agree, she is breathtaking. Her name is Anne.
Now, I hadn't been on a date at that point in ten years. The last time I was single, I was in my late twenties and early thirties. I was a more than a little rusty. But I had to deal with her as the leasing agent, so my mind started churning. Try to remember how to flirt. Try to remember how to spot if a woman is interested. Try to remember how to be charming. I really want to get to know her. I wonder if my divorce or my kid will put her off.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I said to myself, "You can't ask her out, dickhead. You're too fucking old. You'll just be another in a long line of pathetic old men who hit on her because she's so hot."
It was a sobering moment.
Anyway, I saw her yesterday. Now that I know I'm not going to ask her out, I'm no longer a blathering fool, and she probably finds me to be charming.
Charming for an old guy.
posted by Nashville Knucklehead @ 11:24 AM
7 Comments:
I'm 40.
Best thing that ever happened to me. I looked better at 16, but who didn't. I said at my office other day I felt old and an 62 year old woman threw a stapler at me.
Damn, she nearly clouted me.
She then proceeded to give me a speech about old is in the eye of the beholder.
Pretty good talk, but there is no way I can pull my old mojo on a 20 year old college student with a six pack of abs looking like Adonis.
Maybe if I give him a six-pack of lukewarm Milwaukee's Best, I might have a chance.
I don't care. They usually are clueless on what they are doing anyway.
don't be so hard on yourself.
I agree with you on the "don't hit on 20 year old girl" thing, because there isn't much more pathetic a sight that some 50+ year old man taking a 20 something year old girl out on a date. It's just sad and when I see it I either think he has a large wallet or a large something else.
However, being 31 myself, and having dated some "older" guys -- read that as "not 31" -- I'll say this: I would much rather date a guy who is 10 years or so older than I than some schmuck right out of college. Why? Because I don't want to train anybody to do anything. I don't want to teach anyone anything. I want a guy to walk into my life and do his thing and let me do my thing and be on an even keel.* I'm too old to play games and too young to sit with some old guy at the bar to help his ego out.
So, don't wallow in your self pity over being however old you are.
You're not dead. YET.
* and he damn well better make me laugh.
My mortality hit me when I realized that I was NOT exercising in order to look good for the hot babes of the world.
I was exercising to keep my cholesteral and blood pressure down.
THAT makes one feel old.
Bad writer.
The tone of this post should have been more bemusement than sorrow. I have no self-pity. I am what I am. I have a hot girlfriend. She just happens to be 39.
Exador, I also have high blood pressure and high cholesterol.
Think of it via the old saying: no matter how good she looks, someone somewhere is sick of her sh*t.
Dude, look at it this way -- even Paul McCartney, for decades the cutest man in the world, fell victim to Pathetic Old Man Syndrome. (And made himself uncute by getting his eyes done for the benefit of that gold-digging chippie. Aargh.)
At least you know your hot chickie loves you for you, not your material possessions (except maybe your guitar). And she won't ever hit you up for a hundred million a year.
I had Pathetic Old Men hit on me all through my 20s and 30s. Now that I'm in my 40s, Young Hot Men occasionally hit on me. (It's a hazard directly related to my work.) I still just laugh.
Tell your hot chickie to give you a big smooch for me.
Paul McCartney's wife seems sooo...uptight....I guess losing your leg will give you an excuse for a crappy mood.
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